Central City

The evening was crisp. Nearly cold despite it being a late summer day as a modest breeze ebbed against the foliage that lined the dirt park pathway.

Smi drank in the smell, standing a moment to watch as the sun began to dip beneath the treeline for the night, readjusting the worn burlap sack. It contained a bundle of vegetables he had received in exchange for working the barnyard in town.

The man allowed his gaze to wander the area, picking out the details of the rusted abandoned machinery that lay scattered and buried in overgrown plant life. As if the earth itself had reached up and claimed them.

Buildings, long left vacant, loomed the entire town of Central. One of the largest cities for miles but simultaneously one of the least alive. Aside from small pockets of communities Central was, quite literally to Smi, a ghost town.

Pulling the light scarf closer to his mouth he continued his trek back down the path that would lead him to his particular empty building he called home.

It was a relatively long walk. One Smi preferred to take during daylight hours but today the barn owner had practically begged him to help clear out the extra stables. And it was difficult for Smi to say no.

Eager to beat the approaching darkness the man quickened his pace, eyes trailing to the shadows anxiously. Dancing whimsically between shrubbery were small glowing sprites. Spirits. Visible only to his own eyes.

For now they were harmless. But when the sun fades...

He pulled the sack to his chest, lengthening his strides now. Past the sound of the wind there was a whispering that crawled into the edges of his consciousness. Slowly. It seeped and twisted. Gnashing for his attention.

Smi shook his skulled head without breaking pace, deliberately trying to push against the ghosts that greedily invaded his mind. Ignoring them was pointless. They existed whether he acknowledged them or not and getting to the safety of his residence would grant him some protection from the more powerful spectres that roamed the city's streets at night.

The park path finally began to feed into a more industrial side of Central. Though still largely quiet there were at least some street lights still in operation scattered along the way to Smis destination.

The broken blacktops, bordered with crooked telephone poles, crumbling vending machines and rusted trash cans were reminiscent of an age far gone. Whatever civilization that once thrived in this world had long died with no one left to tell of its glory. If that even was what it had been.

Here and there it was possible to find trains or factories or larger businesses in operation but any governing systems or unified hierarchies did not exist here. Most communities were small. Towns or villages that worked together to live their lives. Anyone else were typically loners who picked up the scraps in Central or one of the other dissolved cities.

Smi was a loner.

Reaching deeper into the alleyways it grew more dangerous as the few lights that dotted the streets flickered. The flickering pulsed. Wavering unnaturally as shadows flexed like reaching hands towards him as he passed.

The spirits were excited. Feeding on Smis anxieties.

He took in a sharp breath, breaking into a light jog. It was a cannibalistic circle. To be afraid gives them more power. But their power makes him afraid.

Mentally he tried to calm himself. Not much farther and he could get inside. He could shower off the work from today, fix up a meal and relax.

But he could feel them now. Cold pricks against his skin. Seeping through his coat where they grabbed at his arms, touching against his exposed neck. His face. His hands. Whispering in his head. Pulling at the threads of his mind.

They spoke in incoherent layers. Soothing tones of praise, dark angry hissing, wailing cries of anguish. Tempting him to succumb. Begging him to lend them his body. Give in to possession.

Smi sprinted now, normally blackened eyes and orange irises a stark white. Breath ragged he ran through the streets, lurching over the thick brush that grew up the cracked road. It was difficult to see now. A dense purple fog seeped into his vision as he panicked, desperate to escape.

Finally he saw it. A familiar ragged two story brick building, formerly a shop, with potted ivy along the stairs. The chimes that hung from the front fluttered in the night wind as if waving, greeting the man home.

Smi slowed to a stop at the door, doubling over to catch his breath, before reaching into his breast pocket for the heavy metal key. Relief flooded through his body despite the pain in his lungs and legs.

As he entered Smi turned to lock the glass door behind him when it caught his eyes.

A figure. It stood just outside the reach of the lamp in front of his home. The light pooled at its thin legs. Dark. Nearly black and hoof-like with a hint of red. It was still. Watching him through the glass.

Smi pursed his lips in defiance, blood icing in his veins as a scowl formed on the human half of his face. The figure stepped forward slowly and deliberately revealing a bird-like mask framed in a hood and bright red feathers, the glint of an ice pick in large gloved hands. He knew the man behind it was smiling at him.

Taunting him beneath an expressionless disguise.

Still struggling to breathe normally after his run Smi stared back in silence, masking his fear with a glare. The longer he stared however the louder the whispers became, betraying to himself the terror that began to soak into his bones.

Without any other acknowledgement Smi yanked the curtains over the glass door and turned sharply, retreating to his room upstairs for the night.

[END]